I'll Make You Believe
by dean-and-his-angel
Summary: Sam and Castiel Winchester hunt demons. They eat, they sleep in crappy motels or sometimes the back seat of Castiel's Impala. They are also the responsibility of one of God's angels, Dean. After Dean pulled Castiel out of Hell by his hands and saved his life, the Winchesters have been stuck with the angel since. Not that Castiel minds, of course.
1. Chapter 1

_**I'll Make You Believe**_

_**Part 1**_

Castiel sat on the top step of the motel stairs, beer bottle in his hand and eyes cast down at his feet. It had been hours since Sam had left – or since they talked – and the fact the sun was going down and his brother wasn't back began to worry him. His brows furrowed as he finished the last sip of his beer and set the bottle next to him, the glass clinking against the cement step and breaking the silence of the air. Why on earth Sam had chosen this motel of all others in the area, Castiel didn't know, but the stillness of the air and lack of companionship was unnerving for him.

Sighing, Castiel buried his hand deep into one of the pockets of his trademark trench coat and flipped open his cell phone, hoping for a voicemail from a call he hadn't heard or at least a text message. His eyes noticed the one bar in the top corner, indicating that he had almost no service, and realized that Sam probably didn't either. Closing the flip phone and putting it away, Castiel picked up the bottle and stood, looking out over the landscape. It was pretty much bare and as far as he could see, there were no cars driving down the old gravel road in his direction. He didn't even hear the Impala in the distance, no matter how much he forced his ears to listen. But that's how it was – silent, still, and as if he were the only living thing on earth.

The door of the motel room Castiel and Sam were sharing stuck horribly. Castiel groaned with frustration as he shoved it open with his shoulder, stumbling into the dark room, the old TV the only source of light. Sam had drawn the blinds closed - much to Castiel's dismay, for he loved sunlight – and the lamp on the bedside table didn't work. Shaking his head, Castiel gingerly tossed his empty beer bottle into the tiny trashcan under the dirty counter. He ran a hand through his dark hair, turning around, when he gasped and stumbled back into the counter.

"Dean!" he exclaimed, trying to catch his breath. He watched as Dean's straight face turned into a smirk, sitting up on Castiel's bed. _This angel will be the death of me_, Castiel thought, shaking his head.

"Cas," Dean said, nodding his head once, "I'm surprised you haven't prayed for me to visit yet. Where's Sam?" Castiel shrugged, walking over to the bed and taking a seat. He made sure he wasn't too close to Dean – everyone knew how the angel felt about his 'personal space.'

"I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me that. We haven't spoken for quite a while," Castiel replied, checking his phone again. He watched Dean make a confused face at the device before shaking his head.

"What do you mean? Hah, did your little brother throw another fit again and leave? I've watched him do that so many times it's gotten annoying."

"No, no. He just left to do something a while ago and hasn't returned. Maybe I am over thinking things. Sam has done this before." Dean pursed his lips and stood up, the bed creaking. The angel shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Well, I'd say let's take off and find him," he said, walking over to the small window and peering through the slits of the blinds, "but it seems he's taken off in that car of yours."

"Yes." Castiel stared at his hands, studying the old burn marks he had received from when Dean had taken them as he pulled Castiel out of Hell. He remembered how he and Dean met, finally, after Dean's attempts to communicate with Castiel only to almost shatter his ear drums.

Suddenly, he felt the light hit of someone's rough palm on his cheek, and he snapped out of the memory. Dean was crouched to Castiel's level, looking into his eyes with no expression, hands shoved into his pockets again.

"You here with me, man?" Dean asked his voice low. Castiel blinked a few times before nodding. Dean backed up a bit and tapped his foot on the stained green carpet. His green eyes looked around the small room, taking in the peeling wallpaper and blue glow the TV gave the room.

"Wow, this place is a dump. Sam doesn't know there's a town like ten miles up the road from here with a nicer place?" Dean chuckled. "Then again, he's probably trying to save money or use less of those fake credit cards your dad gave you." Castiel exhaled sharply, remembering how much of the human world Dean actually understood, after watching it with a fascination for so long. Often, the angel would mumble on about how he wished he was human, but that was only when God was in a bad mood or Castiel and Sam had just gotten out of a good fight with some of Lucifer's buddies.

"I don't really know," Castiel said, "perhaps that is where he has gone."

"_Cas,"_ Dean sighed, looking at him in exasperation. Castiel looked back, slightly surprised at Dean's tone. "You and I both know that Sam didn't go look for another motel. I think I might have an idea." Dean bit his bottom lip, raising his brows expectantly. As if he was waiting for Castiel to respond.

"Well, Dean, if you do, then tell me," Castiel said, confused, "he is my brother, yes, but I never question him. He goes as he pleases and I leave it to that."

"Wow, I interrogate your brother more than you," Dean chuckled, shaking his head, "Cas, I think he went to a graveyard for a little visit." Castiel looked down at his hands again, noticing for maybe the hundredth time that Dean's hands were forever imprinted on his.

"You mean… to see Jessica?" Dean nodded once, holding out his hand.

"Let me see your phone."

"What?"

"_Let me see it." _Castiel quickly handed his phone over to Dean, who flipped it open and stared at it for a moment before pressing buttons. Sam always made Dean keep a cell phone on him in the mortal world, but Sam wasn't here, and Castiel knew how much Dean hated to keep such things in his pockets. Castiel wasn't going to make Dean use a cell phone and he was surprised he even wanted to use Castiel's.

"You haven't tried calling him yourself?" Dean wondered, putting the phone up to his ear. He looked at Castiel and knew immediately that Sam was always the one who called first. After a few rings from the phone, it went to Sam's voicemail.

"Sam," Dean said into the phone, "pick up your phone, man. Where'd you go? Call back or get back to the motel. Bye." Dean hung up and tossed the phone to Castiel, who caught it between his fingertips. Castiel set the device next to the lamp on the bedside table and stared at the beam of light on the floor that came from the TV. For the first time since he entered the motel, Castiel realized the TV wasn't even on a channel, just a blank blue screen. Dean followed the hunter's gaze and shook his head.

"Cas, are you okay? You've been kinda out of it lately," he asked, actually sounding worried. Castiel shrugged. He'd been quiet ever since he had delved into a serious friendship with Dean and it was really worrying everyone. Dean had even tried distancing himself, but it only made Castiel worse, so he stayed. He took note on how Castiel was praying to him less and Dean came more on his own account.

"Everyone asks me that, Dean," Castiel said, his tone harsher than it was meant to be. Dean's brow furrowed and he looked away, pouting slightly. Castiel looked at the angel apologetically.

"But yes, I'm fine." Dean didn't say anything for a moment. Then, he sat down next to Castiel on the bed – which sunk under their weight – and straightened Castiel's collar. Castiel's face became warmer instantly and he glanced away.

"Well, I have a feeling Sam won't be back for a while," Dean muttered, putting his hand on Castiel's shoulder. He laid back on the bed, pulling Castiel down with him. Castiel's breath hitched in his lungs as their eyes met. He always thought Dean had the most amazing eyes. Dean smiled gently, removing his hand from Castiel's shoulder and moving it down his arm, his fingertips finally touching the back of Castiel's hand. On instinct, Castiel moved his hand over, and Dean laced their fingers together tightly.

Holding Dean's hand was the greatest sensation Castiel had ever felt, and Castiel had done many things before. It gave him a very warm feeling throughout his whole body. Castiel's eyes flicked to Dean's full lips, which were pink with the warmth of the room – and maybe it was in his head, but the fact that he was totally blushing. Dean smiled in the most adorable way before closing his eyes and snuggling closer to Castiel, burying his face in his coat collar. Castiel inhaled deeply, Dean's soft hair tickling his jawline.

The two were never very personal like this. There was always someone around, someone watching. But there wasn't right now, for once, and they took the chance. Castiel smiled widely and closed the gap between him and Dean's bodies. Dean was very particular about his personal space, but there were always times when he made and exception for Castiel. Neither of them knew what to call this – Dean didn't know what love felt like, and Castiel knew this felt a lot more complex than love. He had felt love before. But this felt different.

The only sound was their breathing, which both were trying to control, and the faint buzzing of the TV. Castiel focused on Dean's breathing pattern, eventually counting the seconds between each exhale and inhale. After a while, he realized the angel had fallen asleep. Castiel smiled again and closed his eyes, Dean's grip tightening on his hand. For once, Castiel wasn't anxious for Sam to immediately return.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Sam shoved the motel door open, hinges creaking and wood sinking under his weight. He peered in through the crack between the doorframe and door to find his brother passed out on his bed. Castiel's coat was off and so were his shoes, which Sam found strange because Castiel normally didn't bother changing before going to sleep. Slipping through the crack in the door, Sam shut it behind him, locking all four of the bolts on the door. Sam tossed his jacket on the chair by the TV before checking if the windows were locked. His fingertips were suddenly coated with a thick layer of dust from the window panes. He shook his head and ran the tap of the sink, cold water rushing over his hand.

Behind him on the bed, Castiel stirred. Sam shut off the water and dried off his hand on his jeans, trying his hardest not to wake his older brother. Castiel hardly got any sleep anymore (Sam didn't quite know why) but leaving him alone for some time did seem to help. Sam was beginning to realize that the constant travelling and sleepless nights were finally starting to take a toll on his brother. This didn't particularly worry him – it just set the two back on time on their hunts.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Sam sat down on the edge of his bed, taking off his boots. He had spent most of the day a few hours away, at a graveyard. Jessica's graveyard, to be exact. Sam would never tell Castiel he had visited Jessica's grave – which he lined with a new set of flowers he bought – because Castiel would become concerned. And Sam knew that Castiel didn't need to be concerned about anything or anyone but himself. It wasn't that Sam wasn't over Jessica, but she was one of his best friends. The girl he was going to marry, the girl who encouraged him to follow his true dreams.

Sam stared down at the floor and sighed. He was tired but knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. Throwing himself back on the covers, Sam suddenly caught the faint scent of something all too familiar. Sam sat back up, looking at his brother curiously. Only one person ever took care of his brother well enough to at least take that heavy trench coat and those feet-aching boots off of him.

"_Dean,"_ Sam whispered, smiling, _"I know you were here."_ Of course, Dean didn't come. He never answered to Sam's requests and even prayers. He only answered Castiel's. But there was a definite wind outside that shook the windows and the tree across the parking lot that let Sam know Dean heard him.

"_Thanks for taking of him,"_ he added as an afterthought. Nothing happened, but he knew Dean heard him. Dean always heard him. He just chose to ignore the younger Winchester more than half the time.

Castiel suddenly sat up.

"W-where's Dean?" he stuttered sleepily, "is he okay?"

"He's fine. He's just somewhere but here," Sam mumbled, watching as his brother's face fell in disappointment.

"Oh. Alright," Castiel said. His voice was rough from just waking up but his eyes were wild, staring down at his hands again. Sam always wondered why Castiel did that so much. His brother's blue eyes were usually cast down at his open palms, full of wonder and a strange kind of happiness. Sam did know that Dean had pulled Castiel out of Hell by his hands, and left several burn marks, but there was no special significance to the burns. At least, Sam didn't think so.

"So Dean was here?" Sam wondered, breaking Castiel's train of thought. Castiel's hands dropped and his eyes raised and he nodded.

"Yes. I must have fallen asleep before he left."

"What did you guys do?"

"Uh. Just sat and watched the TV. Dean did not like the selection of channels." Sam hardly noticed Castiel's awkwardness as he answered, for he was too busy going through his phone. There was a voicemail from Bobby, and a voicemail from – Castiel. Sam's brows furrowed as he pressed the button and listened to the voicemail

"Sam, pick up your phone, man. Where'd you go? Call back or get back to the motel. Bye." Dean. Sam chuckled, closing his phone and tossing it onto the pillow next to him. He should've known that Castiel would've never called him, not even if he were on his death bed and got a one-way call to a loved one. In fact, Castiel would probably call Dean, not Sam.

Castiel laid back down on his bed, staring at the burns. Sam bit his lip. Dean seemed to help Castiel so much – after all, he ended up sleeping like a baby when Dean showed up. It made Sam curious but the brothers never pried at each other. It was somewhat of a silent agreement. After most of Castiel's childhood consisting of keeping an eye on his younger brother, the two loosened the reins on whereabouts and thoughts.

After a few moments of silence, Sam finally realized that Castiel was done talking. Sam watched as Castiel rolled over on his side so that his back was facing Sam. The wind shook the windows again, giving the younger Winchester an edge. Sam stood and took off his jeans, slipping under the scratchy and stained paisley blankets in his t-shirt and boxers. The digital clock on the bedside table read 2:15 in the morning, and Sam would have to get up in about an hour or so. Closing his eyes, Sam almost immediately fell into a restless and shallow sleep, his dreams consisting of everything he confessed to Jessica's grave.

Castiel listened to his brother's deep breathing. He was getting used to the difference between someone's conscious breathing patterns and unconscious patterns. Especially Dean's. He had listened to Dean's breaths and heartbeats more than anyone else's. It gave him something to do in the times the two laid there together, fingers intertwined tightly and bodies close.

When he had woken up, he forgot Dean was never there to wake up with him. Not unless he was staying with both Castiel and Sam – a time and place where nothing can go on but maybe glances or inside jokes. Sometimes it made Castiel sad to wake up and not feel Dean's fingers between his, but he completely understood. Not only was someone bound to return, but Dean had duties. He was an angel, and he had work to do.

The wind outside shook the multiple locks on the door and dirty glass held by old wood formed into window panes. There was no other sound to distract Castiel from the tormenting nightmares and horrifying memories from Hell that were beginning to resurface in his mind. Castiel gripped his bed sheets tightly, knuckles turning white, wishing more than ever that Dean were here to hold his hand. But Dean couldn't. Dean couldn't come and hold his hand or even tell him it was going to be okay. Dean had duties and he was busy. He didn't have time for Castiel.

At least, that's what Castiel told himself. The small voice in his head was a frustrating one and he often argued with it. Castiel bit his bottom lip so hard that it hurt and took deep breaths. He just needed to calm down. He'd see Dean in a few hours when they go on their hunting trip, they'd share a glance and a joke, and it would be okay. Castiel always looked forward to those moments – the ones when he got to see Dean and hear the angel's voice. He lived for those moments. Smiling gently at the thought, Castiel instantly felt better and his breathing slowed to a normal pace. Dean always said to think of him when he got that way, and it always made Castiel happy and peaceful again.

"_So what, you like him better, or something?"_

"_Cas and I do share a more profound bond. I wasn't going to mention it." _

_A more profound bond,_ Castiel thought with another small smile, his grip loosening on the sheets. Dean and Castiel definitely had a "more profound" bond, and that was undeniable, even to those who didn't know what went on between the angel and the hunter when they were left alone.

Castiel thought about the case they'd be studying in a few hours' time. He realized that he didn't even know why they were in this area, but that probably meant he wasn't paying attention or was catching up on sleep when Sam decided where they'd go from Michigan. Castiel knew Sam probably chose something he knew Dean would love to go and help out with. Sam wasn't ever fond of Dean hunting with them, but he did it because Dean seemed to greatly help Castiel.

"_Fall asleep,"_ Castiel whispered to himself, closing his eyes tightly.


End file.
